


we find delight in the most loathsome things

by callunavulgari



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-07 02:55:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4246788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callunavulgari/pseuds/callunavulgari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I could rip your throat out right now,” Derek growls, tongue flicking out to taste Stiles’ pulse.</p><p>Stiles laughs, turning his head so that Derek’s teeth aren’t in danger of mauling anything important, except maybe Stiles’ mouth. He taps his claws against Derek’s upper thigh, high enough up that Stiles can feel the hot press of him against his palm. “And I could rip your balls off and keep them as a trophy,” he purrs. “Maybe I should be the one scaring all the little children.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	we find delight in the most loathsome things

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, okay. So I know you're looking at this and going, a Monster's University fusion? Really? But! This is less that and more... me being curious about what would happen if I gave the Monster's Inc universe a scarier, Nightmare Before Christmas kind of feel. I didn't so much succeed with the scary, because Stiles and Derek got distracted making eyes at each other, but I liked the draft too much to nix it. So now it's a Monster's University fusion with scarier looking monsters, but much of the same feel.
> 
> Stiles was inspired by radishwine's art, but namely [these](http://callunavulgari.tumblr.com/post/121784855890/radishwine-i-love-thinking-about-canon-divergence) [three](http://callunavulgari.tumblr.com/post/99827338661/haqbomb-i-honestly-have-no-idea-where-im-going) [pieces](http://40.media.tumblr.com/9c42ccf2402a9618bb6519e55cf78be2/tumblr_nne4t9p1iJ1u1lwwuo1_1280.jpg). Note: the second isn't actually radishwine, but the horns fit.

Stiles Stilinski has never been the scariest monster. Always too small, too soft, too _human_. When he was a little creature, he always envied the bigger, hairier monsters in school. The hulking monstrosities with guaranteed futures, the scarecrow girls with their barbed wire smiles, or the slender snake-like forms that always snuck up behind you.

Stiles didn’t have spiky spines or a poison tail. He didn’t have much of anything. His scare mates would poke fun at him, because he looked so human. Said that that’s why no one ever wanted to play with him, because he was toxic. Poison, and not in the good way.

By the time he’s heading to college, he’s grown into his claws and horns some. His eyes flash dark and reptilian when the sun hits them just right and his wings are less nubby and stupid looking against his back and more fearsome, stretching out enormously when they’re fully extended.

Scare school is a good idea. It’s a great idea, and he’s sure that he can prove them all wrong, because he is _terrifying_ when he wants to be. Dad told him so.

And that would all be great, if it weren’t for Derek Hale.

.

Derek Hale is one of the biggest, scariest monsters at the school. Everyone knows about the Hale legacy, which goes back as far as most monsters can remember. His uncle is _the_ Boogeyman. His mother, Talia Hale, is a legend. They said that they powered three whole cities on her screams alone. For _four years_. And that was just two members of his enormous, terrifyingly rich family. All signs point to Derek following along in their footprints.

Derek has a mouth shaped like a continuous snarl, red eyes that glitter in the dark, and large, dripping canines even in his ‘softer’ form. He’s twice the size of most of the bigger monsters on campus and his claws aren’t quite as long as Stiles’, but likely just as deadly.

And his scary form? Well. Stiles hasn’t personally seen it, but everyone knows that if you’ve seen a Hale’s scary form, you might as well drop dead on the spot.

The thing is, Derek is all of those things and more. He swaggers like he knows everyone should worship him, glares at anyone who isn’t in his circle of friends, and, if the rumors are believed, fucked more than half of the school’s population before rush week was even through.

But Derek Hale is also a _fucking asshole_.

An asshole who is currently climbing in through Stiles’ window and collapsing on his bed with a huff, as if he fucking owns the place. It’s a tight fit, but the windows on this floor were made for flying students with wingspans far larger than even Derek; he fits. Derek glances up at Stiles, as if just noticing his presence, and arcs one fearsome eyebrow.

“Yes?” he drawls, stretching out so his toes curl against the sheets. Stiles watches the claws catch against the fabric, and for a moment, hates himself for liking the way they look there.

Stiles cocks his head sharply to one side, the feathers at the back of his neck and all down his spine bristling and sticking out like poison quills. He flashes his eyes just to be an obnoxious little shit, because fuck this asshole. If he wants to come in here and sprawl all over Stiles’ bed, then Stiles can damn well channel his distinctly avian grandmother at him. She was scary as fuck.

“Really,” Stiles sneers. “Yes? That's what you're gonna go with? You’re shedding all over my bed right now.”

“Oh,” Derek says, after a moment of glancing around. “Weird. Thought this was my room.”

He doesn’t make a move to get up.

Stiles blinks, flexing his claws at his sides. It wouldn’t do to murder Monster University’s sweetheart before he even makes it to sophomore year, he reminds himself, tracking Derek’s movements as his eyes flick down to watch Stiles’ claws.

“Huh,” Derek hums, propping himself up on his elbows as he peers at Stiles, a glimmer of interest in his eyes. “I think those are the longest I’ve ever seen.”

“Nice of you to notice. Bet you tell all the monsters that,” Stiles tells him, crossing the room in three easy steps to fling the door open wide. “But you can leave now.”

Derek looks him up and down, maw gaping open when he sends a wolfish smirk Stiles’ way.

“Most monsters don’t kick me out of their bed before I’ve put it to good use,” he confesses, voice growing low and intimate as he slithers off of Stiles’ bed. He approaches like a true predator, eyes glowing brighter than usual, pupils dilated. Something about the way he lays one huge paw against Stiles’ chest and throat sends a thrill of terror down Stiles’ spine, but he stands his ground as Derek leans into him, licking his chops.

“Most monsters probably invited you there in the first place. You’ll find that I did not.”

Derek’s eyes widen, and it’s a little funny, how confused he seems. Probably hasn’t ever been turned down before.

And really, when given an opportunity like this one? Stiles would be an idiot to pass it up.

Carefully, he leans in close, until his mouth is hovering just over Derek’s. Up close, he can see the way that Derek’s eyes brighten, his pupils swelling so large that just a hint of red shows around the edges. Stiles takes one claw, and gently sets the tip of it against Derek’s thundering pulse. One small move, and Derek would be dead in minutes.

Their mouths are almost touching now, and he can feel Derek’s breath against his lips, so he sighs, sharp teeth digging into his lower lip until he tastes blood. Derek’s nostrils flare prettily.

“This,” Stiles’ whispers, their lips ghosting together with the movement, “Is the part where you leave.”

Then he twists sharply, shoving Derek out the door and watching with amusement as he goes down hard. With a jagged smirk and a jaunty wave, Stiles slams the door in his shocked-stupid face.

.

Over the course of the next week, Stiles learns three things.

Thing number one: Derek has honestly never been rejected before.

Thing number two: Derek takes rejection _very badly_.

And thing number three: Derek is somehow even more attractive when he’s angry.

He takes to practically stalking Stiles around campus, his Roar Omega Roar jacket stretched broadly across his shoulders. Derek himself is pretty striking, but with the jacket on? Nobody would miss him.

“Why is Derek Hale staring at you?” Lydia asks him one day, staring intently over Stiles’ shoulder. There’s deadly nightshade woven into her braid today, the purple blossoms standing out prettily against the exposed white of her skull.

Lydia has a very pretty face most of the time. Pale skin stretched over an exquisite skeleton, eyes a ghastly green, and chunks of flesh torn away here and there, ‘for the aesthetic.’ Coming from a long line of banshees, it’s when she starts screaming that she becomes truly horrifying.

Unlike Derek Hale though, Lydia doesn’t let the fact that she’s got a spot on the scare floor already waiting for her get in the way of her becoming even _better._

Stiles glances over his shoulder, meets Derek’s eyes, and, very pointedly, shows every single one of his teeth. Derek narrows his eyes, and doesn’t even make it ten seconds before he looks away.

“I turned him down,” Stiles answers flippantly, turning back to his notes.

“You what?” Lydia shrieks, and Stiles winces, wiping the blood from his ears. Everyone within fifty yards is doing the same thing, murmuring discontentedly, but not making a move to do anything about it. No one messes with Lydia Martin.

“Can you not do that,” Stiles whispers waspishly, making a face when he realizes that some of the blood has dripped onto his notes.

“ _You_ turned down Derek Hale?”

Stiles narrows his eyes, wings twitching in irritation. “What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

Lydia glares back at him, nonplussed. “It means that you’re an idiot.”

“Because I don’t want to sleep with him?” Stiles tries.

Lydia snorts. “ _Please_. Everyone wants to sleep with him, Stiles.”

“Well, maybe I don’t. He’s a fucking asshole.”

Lydia makes a face so unimpressed that it’s practically art. “Asshole is your type and you know it.”

Stiles flushes. She has a point there. “I just… I don’t want to be another notch on his bedpost. I’m sure he’s a great fuck, but fuck that shit. I’m not just going to bend over because he said so.”

“Hmm,” Lydia murmurs in reply, tapping her pen against her lip, a knowing look in her eyes. When Stiles asks what she means by that, she refuses to say anything further on the subject.

.

Things would probably have been okay. Stiles would have gone on with his life, getting passive-aggressively stalked by the scariest monster on campus and acing all of his tests. He would have come in second behind Lydia when they graduated, and then he would have gone on and forgot Derek Hale existed.

Everything would have been fine, if it weren’t for finals.

“It’s just a final project,” Scott tells him, tossing a skull towards the ceiling. He catches it on the way down easily, and when he tosses it up again, Stiles snatches it out of the air and crushes it to dust in his palm, ignoring the wounded noise Scott gives him.

“It’s not just a final project,” Stiles hisses, the feathers along the back of his neck standing up. His wings have been braced for flight for hours now, and Stiles wants to murder something very small and then eat it. “It’s a final group project. Group as in two. As in myself and Derek fucking Hale.”

“So?” Scott shrugs, unconcerned. “He’s the scariest dude here. You’ll ace it.”

Stiles stops, takes a deep breath, and with a screech, flings himself out the window.

.

Derek is staring at him.

Derek has been staring at him for twenty minutes, once again reclined against Stiles’ bed, smirk on his stupid, hateful face. It’s beginning to try his patience.

“Y’know...” Stiles begins thoughtfully. Derek makes an inquiring noise, head cocked.

Stiles grits his teeth and wonders if it would dull them too much if he gave into the urge to grind them together. “It would really help if you contributed.”

Derek raises a brow at him. “Contribute to what exactly? With your brains and my face? We’ll get the highest grade in class.”

Stiles sighs. Unfortunately, he’s not wrong.

“I’d still appreciate it if you did something other than lay there making eyes at me.”

The corner of Derek’s mouth twitches. “I like making eyes at you. And you can pretend all you want, but I know you like it too.”

He inhales pointedly, smug as shit when Stiles flushes. “So what? You’re hot. I’m horny.”

Derek unfurls himself from the bed, and Stiles blinks, because it’s easy to forget how huge Derek really is when he’s curled up on Stiles’ soft mattress. He sits up, eyes gleaming with predatory intent, and doesn’t get off the bed, but leans towards Stiles anyway. “So let’s fuck,” he says easily.

“Let’s not,” Stiles counters with a snort.

Derek collapses back against the bed again, arms crossed. “Why not?”

God, he’s _pouting_.

“Because,” Stiles tells him, and leaves it like that, because he knows it’ll drive Derek crazy.

Sure enough, Derek growls. “You drive me fucking crazy.”

“Mmm,” Stiles murmurs, and runs another algorithm.

.

“So, I’ve determined that we should use your alpha form for the project.”

Derek, who appeared startled when Stiles collapsed onto the ground next to him, schools his face into a neutral expression and asks, “Why?”

“Because it’s terrifying? And the simulation I’m running has ten kids that we need to scare out of their minds. We might need the extra scare mojo.”

Derek doesn’t seem interested in asking the logical question here, which is why Stiles decided to program ten kids in instead of the one that’s required. Probably figures — rightly, of course — that Stiles is showing off, but sue him, Stiles has always liked a challenge. It’ll get them extra credit and the judging admiration of their professor and everyone who deigns to watch.

Instead, with a somewhat wounded expression, Derek asks, “You don’t think I’m scary enough like this?”

Stiles considers him. Like this, Derek is pretty scary. He’s a Hale, has great genes, yada yada yada, but like this, Derek looks almost as human as Stiles does. Sure, he’s enormous, and hairy, and has the terrifying teeth, eyes, and claws, but Stiles isn’t willing to bet his grade that it’ll be enough.

“No,” he muses. “I don’t think so.”

Derek scowls so hard that it looks like it might be straining something. He leans into Stiles’ space, a low, menacing snarl coming from deep in his chest. His teeth are right next to Stiles’ neck, pressed up against his jugular vein. It makes Stiles’ heart pound harder, but not from fear.

“I could rip your throat out with my teeth right now,” Derek growls, tongue flicking out to taste Stiles’ pulse.

Stiles laughs, turning his head so that Derek’s teeth aren’t in danger of mauling anything important, except maybe Stiles’ mouth. He taps his claws against Derek’s upper thigh, high enough up that Stiles can feel the hot press of him against his palm. “And I could rip your balls off and keep them as a trophy,” he purrs. “Maybe I should be the one scaring all the little children.”

Derek’s fangs lengthen, the dip between his brows deepening, so Stiles winks and takes that as a sign to continue. “Unless, of course, you’re just too scared to show off that alpha form of yours. Afraid it’s not as scary as everyone thinks? Maybe,” he muses, daring to press his palm fully over Derek’s erection. “You’re just a puppy. All bark, no _bite_.”

Stiles snaps his teeth mockingly in Derek’s direction and Derek just… snaps, grabbing him around the waist, so quickly that Stiles can’t think to move, and dragging him into his lap.

Stiles, because the sudden surge of terror is sharp and visceral, tilts his head back and laughs, letting Derek dig his teeth into his shoulder.

“You’re a fucking tease, Stilinski,” Derek snarls, dotting bites up and down Stiles’ neck until he’s squirming; oversensitized, bruised, and bleeding sluggishly.

Stiles looks at Derek, at his bright-dark eyes and his panting mouth, and thinks about taking him to his bed. Finally. It would be good. Maybe even great.

When he leans in, Stiles lets Derek kiss him. He bites back, rocking his hips forward harshly, and kisses Derek until they both have blood on their teeth.

Then he pulls away, glancing around to make sure that Derek’s corner of the quad is still as secluded as it was before, and winks.

“After the final,” he tells Derek, getting to his feet after licking away a slow trickle of blood running from Derek’s mouth to his chin. “You be the Big Bad Wolf and scare all the Little Reds out of bed, and I’ll think about letting you fuck me.”

“You’re a fucking asshole, you know that,” Derek tells him, adjusting himself in his pants.

Stiles laughs. “I know.”

.

They ace the final.

Derek is suitably terrifying. Stiles is a genius. No one is surprised.

And if nobody can seem to locate them over the long weekend?

Well, if you were paying attention, you won’t be surprised by that either.


End file.
